Zen & the art of friendship maintenance The meaning of success

minutes later……

Friend: Well, just so you know, you weren’t the entire topic of conversation.

Me: Still. Thank you. You made my day!

EVERY now and then in life, we receive a communication that stops us dead in our tracks.

Posted brown envelope with harp stamp square in the middle? Gulp. An email from your manager asking for a quick five? Sure thing boss. Just as soon as I’ve finished hyperventilating.

WHAT does success mean to you? I've been thinking about this question a lot lately. It might have to do with the fact that I have a birthday approaching; one that is taking me closer to a roundy one, and I’m not really all that pleased about it. I feel very unsettled in myself, as if time is running out. I am plagued with big questions. What’s love got to do with it? What becomes of the broken-hearted? Is this the way to Amarillo?

While correspondence around employment and taxes might elicit a sense of resignation in the best of us, at least we have the micro-communiques to rely upon. The ones that punctuate the staleness of a humdrum day.

Usually, when these little anxious periods arise, I find solace in a book but my concentration is not what it used to be. The cinema can work well for distraction but the latest listings are pitiful. A freestyle dance practice occasionally works but not when you find yourself inexplicably drawn to Morrissey’s back catalogue.

I was at a seminar recently. At about one hour in, my phone pinged. A WhatsApp message. A friend, letting me know that I had come up in his therapy session that morning. I know. I read it twice too. The exchange went something like this: Friend: You came up in my therapy session this morning.

4,000 WEEKS

The smell of fresh coffee and croissants prompted me to stop. I filled up, sat down, ready for the next seminar topic with pen in hand. I couldn’t help myself. Within minutes, I had picked up the phone again.

Me: I know what it is.

Friend: Spill.

Me: We water each other’s spiritual gardens! I then sent a GIF of a skeleton showering from a watering can.

This is an in-joke between us. There are many. It is always said in a high octave American voice, when we need to justify overspending or oversharing. “We’re just watering our spiritual gardens”.

I listened to a podcast episode recently where the Guardian columnist Oliver Burkeman, was dicussing his latest book, 4,000 weeks. Centred around time management, it differs from the standard productivity offerings in the self help genre. The title says it all. If you live until you’re 80, you’ve got 4,000 weeks, which is, as he has described it, absurdly short. He goes on to point out that time management is all life is, and for every project that you’re putting on the long finger,

Macalla an Chláir

Me: Okaaay????????

Friend : I was asked to name someone in my life who could be serious, frivolous, or serious in a frivolous way.

le MACDARA Ó CONAOLA

Clár as Gaeilge

Me: Oh my God. Thanks Friend! That means a lot. I always feel like I share too much on the serious front and then I get vulnerability hangovers.

Pause.

Me: You and I have always got on though. It might be the music thing? It might be the fact that you are a fellow water sign. You never judge me.

My friend is a former colleague. We first met at an Alanis Morrissette concert. I, having consumed one too many ciders, bounded over to him and his friends like an enthusiastic puppy, expounding on 90s female singers and how amazing the venue was. I vaguely recognised him from a mutually attended, 800 person strong workplace and felt now was the time to also elaborate on the many other colleagues I had spotted at the gig. Picture it. The sun was beating down. My group was looking for me everywhere (I hope). His group were giving me major skunk eye. All around us a deranged crowd were scream-singing, “It’s like raaaaaiiiiiiinn!” Even though we had never spoken, he was gracious and no doubt relieved when I finally skittered off into the melee.